


Don't Call It A Love Song

by yehetmeup



Series: Exodus Mall [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetmeup/pseuds/yehetmeup
Summary: It’s been two years since you opened the bookstore across from KMS Music. Two long years of falling in love with its sexy and sarcastic owner, never imagining that he might feel the same. You’ve always preferred fiction over reality; books and stories just seemed to be inexplicably better, and safer, than real life. But when an unexpected present is delivered on your store’s two year anniversary, you think you might have found the one person who can tempt you to leave the fantasy world and chase something real.





	Don't Call It A Love Song

February 4th, 1995

It’s a cold and rainy day. You’re driving around, desperately searching for a music store. You wonder if you’ve brought on the downpour with your own torrential mood. “On Bended Knee” by Boyz II Men starts playing on the radio, for what feels like the thousandth time that day. Their beautiful voices are normally a guilty pleasure for you, but today, in all your fury, they feel mocking instead.

You don’t want sweet. You want angry, you want pissed off; something to match the swirling emotions inside of you. You jam your hand against the power button and suddenly the only sound in the car is your sniffling. Disgusted, you grab a tissue from your purse and dab your eyes, new tears welling in your frustration. You can’t take it any more, working with that pig, that asshole. Seven long years you’ve worked for Dalton Books and for it’s owner Jason Dalton. 

You started working there the day you turned eighteen, saving every penny you could. Long night and weekend shifts to put yourself through college. Thanks to a combination of scholarships and that job you managed to graduate debt free three years ago. Since then you’d been relentlessly building your savings in hopes of one day achieving your dream of opening your own business. 

For years you’d been applying for promotions at the bookstore, anything to make more money so that you could make your dream a reality sooner. And for years Jason Dalton has been passing you over for whatever girl he’s currently interested in sleeping with, after you made it abundantly clear you weren’t going to take him up on that offer.

You dreaded having to look for another job, so close to reaching your savings goal. But just this morning you learned that instead of promoting you to the open supervisor position he’d given the job to Megan, who’d been there a whopping three months. Unbelievable. Everyone loved you; the regular customers, the whole staff – senior and new, the vendors. You worked your ass off and always showed up with a fantastic attitude. 

Everyone knew you deserved to be promoted, but as it’s a family owned store there’s no one to go to; no HR, no higher manager to complain to. So you sucked it up and worked your shift and then drove off in search of some music to drown your sorrows.

A single story mall up ahead on the right catches your eye. A neon sign, purple with white lettering and a lightning bolt symbol in the center, shines from the closest store. KMS Music it reads and you merge into the turn lane abruptly, thanking the universe that there was no one next to you. You pull into the mall, admiring it’s modern black and chrome exterior, and easily find a spot out front. You sling your purse across your shoulder, adjust your denim skirt and flip down your mirror. Mascara is running down your cheeks in two black streaks. You groan and clean it up with another tissue, wetting it on your tongue. Finally presentable, you get out of the car and slam the door.

You stride across the lot and pull open the door, stepping inside onto a deep purple carpet. “Money” by Pink Floyd is playing from the speakers on the wall. You sigh in relief, no sweet pop music for you today. The store is spacious, orderly. Rows and rows of sleek black wood racks hold CDs, records, and posters. Colorful picture discs hang down from the ceiling, creating a bright mosaic that draws your eye. Remembering your purpose, you look around the store, trying to find the best category that might hold what you need.

“Can I help you find something?” a man says from the counter to your right, his hands paused in sorting through receipts. Inwardly you curse your luck. Of course you run into the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen on a day you look like a complete wreck. Messy black hair, piercing dark eyes, vintage Led Zeppelin shirt, tight jeans tucked into faded Doc Martens. 

He’s leaning against the counter like some off-duty rock God. When you realize you’ve been staring at him for several seconds you blush and look down. Gathering yourself together you look back up to where he’s still regarding you with a raised eyebrow, waiting.

“Yes, actually,” you start, your voice thick from all the crying. You clear your throat and carry on. “I’m having a totally awful day. What do you have in the way of angry rock? The louder the better.”

His eyes widen and his gaze roams down your body, taking in your conservative denim skirt, soft green sweater, and twin braids. You glance at the customer currently paying at the register, a tall man with a sky high red mohawk and studded leather jacket; it’s safe to assume that you’re not the type of customer he usually sees. He gives you a smirk and sets down his receipts, sauntering toward you. “Right this way,” he says, walking over to the CD racks labeled “Rock & Roll.”

He leans against the nearest rack on one hip, tilting his head as he starts naming off bands. A lightning bolt tattoo, a matching design to the one on the store’s sign, peeks out from behind his ear as he leans forward. “If you’re looking for straight up angry rock we’ve got some AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Twisted Sister. Any of this sounding appealing?”

You draw your lip in with your teeth, considering. None of those sound quite right, but you’re not able to articulate exactly what you’re looking for. “Or, I have an idea. How about some angry girl rock? Hole – Miss World,” he says, handing you the CD. “Or maybe some Garbage?” His agile fingers flip through the racks, pulling out another CD and placing it in your hands.

“Hmm, no, wait. I’ve got it.” He takes the other two from your hands and puts them back, walking down and selecting another CD. “Alanis Morissette – Jagged Little Pill.” He slides out the case and walks over to a listening station. With precision he unwraps the case and pops the disc in the machine. He takes the headphones off the rack and hands them to you. You slip them over your ears and the world is instantly muffled. He leans in, hitting the play button and then the skip button to queue up the second song.

The second the chorus kicks in to “You Oughta Know” you decide that he’s right, this is exactly what you need. Throughout the song he remains close, watching you gently bob your head along to the music, his intense eyes never leaving your face. The song finishes and you slide the headphones down to rest on your neck. You give him a grin and a thumbs up. “It’s perfect, I’ll take it,” His face breaks into a satisfied smile in return, showing his gums, making him look years younger. Maybe the rock God has a soft side, you think.

“Fantastic,” he says, ejecting the disc as you put the headphones back on the stand. He walks you to the register and starts ringing you up. You can’t help but observe every detail of him, separated by only a narrow counter. The sharpness of his jaw. The outline of his chest through the faded shirt. His easy, effortless air of confidence. You’ve been working for your dreams for so long you can’t even remember the last time you were seriously attracted to someone. College maybe? Those six months you spent with Zach junior year? God, has it really been that long? you wonder.

“I hope you have a better day,” he says gently, handing you the CD and your receipt, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Thanks, I think I will now,” you reply, taking your purchase and slipping it into your purse. He nods to you as you step away from the counter, breaking the spell his presence cast over you.

Rather than heading back to your car you turn the other way, wandering out into the mall. It must have been here this whole time, only a ten minute drive or so from your apartment, but you’ve never been in before. The walls are a crisp white color, the floors an off-white marble tile. Potted plants, tables, and groups of dark leather chairs provide seating areas every few feet.

Walking toward the center of the mall you see what looks like an antiques store next to the music store. Its windows are packed with an assortment of goods stacked precariously; an organized chaos of books, clothing, and smaller decorative furniture. The sign above reads Guardians est. 1994. Next to that is a busy Starbucks, a line of customers trailing out into the mall as they wait to grab their caffeine fix. The far end holds a large department store, bustling with foot traffic. Across the way you see a narrow jewelry shop with some dazzling diamond and emerald pieces on display. Next to that is a chocolate shop called Sinful, its windows filled with an assortment of what indeed looks like sinful amounts of chocolate.

A loud laugh to the right draws your attention to the large, bustling food court. A crowded pizza parlor in the center has a “Grand Opening” banner hung above its menu board. Some smaller restaurants are scattered around the rest of the space. It’s just about dinner time and the tables are almost full of couples and families talking as they eat. Between the food court and where you stand are a handful of other stores. A computer repair shop, a clothing store from a chain you recognize, and an entrance to a sleek looking exercise studio. The block letters on its doors read KOKO. At the far end of the mall, through the open food court, you can see the large neon sign of a movie theater, rows of marquees out front list off the current movies and showtimes.

Finally your observation turns to the store directly across from you. The gate is drawn shut and the lights are off, but you can still see faintly through the large glass windows. A “For Sale” sign is pinned to the gate, listing the contact number for the mall real estate agent. Stepping the rest of the way to the store you lift your hand against the glass to block out the glare from the lights and peer into the windows. Rows and rows of dark wood bookshelves line the outside ring. A low, wide counter stretches to the right. Display tables are centered around the middle of the store, looking sad and empty of merchandise.

If you’re honest with yourself, a bookstore has always been your dream, ever since you first read The Hobbit as a child. As the only daughter of two teachers you’d never had a shortage of fictional friends to keep you company. It had killed your parents that they couldn’t afford to help you out with college, but they made sure you never lacked for books on your birthdays and at Christmas.

The store is calling to you in a way you can’t describe. A tingling feeling deep in your bones that this is where you’re meant to be. You have no idea how to go about buying it, whether or not you have enough money, or how on earth you’re going to manage to hire and lead a staff at the age of twenty-five. But you’ve always been practical and able to figure things out. You’re normally one to be cautious, to consider all the options thoroughly before making a decision. But today something feels right, something is calling you to take action, now.

You pull out a receipt and a pen from your purse, write down the phone number, and head back to your car full of purpose. The Exodus Mall, you think excitedly, it might just be the perfect place for you. Passing through KMS Music you sadly don’t see any sign of the good looking man who helped you out before. You pull out the Alanis Morissette CD as soon as you get into the car and happily rock out on your drive home.

May 7th, 1995

The second time he sees you is an unseasonably warm evening. He looks up from his paperwork and it’s ten on the dot, closing time. Pulling out his keys he does a quick lap of the store to make sure there’s no customers around. Satisfied it’s just him and his assistant manager, Alec, he goes to lock the front doors. He pivots and moves to close the gate, bobbing his head to the strains of Jimi Hendrix playing over the speakers. 

He reaches for the gate to the mall to draw it closed, but his attention is drawn across the way by light and sound coming from the previously vacant bookstore. The gate is still closed, but the store is full of activity. Several people are milling around, unpacking boxes; it’s once empty shelves now partially filled up with neat rows of books.

The upbeat opening bars of “Dancing Queen” by ABBA start coming from inside and the employees give cheers of approval. When you stand up from crouching down to start the CD on the player behind the counter, he recognizes you immediately. He smiles to himself, thinking all over again how cute you look with your hair in long twin braids. You notice him staring and give him a small wave, quickly turning away as you’re called over by one of your employees. He stays there for a beat, thinking that of all the people in the world he’d have expected to buy the old Cheshire Bookshop, you’re definitely a pleasant surprise.

Finally he slides the gate closed and locks it, looking up once again to watch you move about the store, speaking to another woman as you gesture to the shelves with wide arms. He observes your side profile as you discuss whatever plans you’re making, remembering how he’d been drawn to you when you stormed into his store months ago.

You’d looked so upset and defeated, he could tell you’d been crying, but you seemed so passionately determined as well. As the manager he doesn’t usually volunteer to help customers, preferring to exist behind the scenes. He chooses the stock, runs the logistics, and hires excellent employees to handle the customers. But for some reason he felt compelled to head off Alec and help you himself. It was completely worth it, watching you bite your lip as you considered his selection, being on the receiving end of your smile as you listened to one of his favorite songs, feeling satisfied that he’d chosen something that pleased you.

“There a problem, boss?” he hears Alec ask from behind him.

“No. Just checking out our new neighbors,” he says, inclining his head toward the bookstore.

“Oh, nice. I’m glad someone finally bought that place. It’s about time we got some new blood around here,” Alec says and wanders back to closing down the register.

“Yeah,” Minseok says to himself. He shakes his head, smiling, and slides his keys into his pocket. He gives one last look across the mall at you before turning back to all the closing duties that await him.

May 20, 1995

After months of preparation, you’re finally ready to open Greyhame Books for the first time. You’d decided to name it after one of your all time favorite literary characters. You were so nervous in your meeting with the mall real estate manager, wearing your only nice dress, your bank statements and business plan neatly printed out in a folder. 

Luckily the woman you met with, Jill, was a fellow book lover who’d been crushed when the couple that owned the bookstore had decided to retire after their lease ended last Thanksgiving. Your fantastic credit score, sensible attitude, and consistent employment for the past seven years convinced her to take a chance on you. You had just enough money to squeak out a deposit and dashed over to the bank immediately after your meeting to get the money order and to work out a business loan.

The fierce satisfaction you’d felt when you turned in your two weeks notice at Dalton Books later that day had been short lived. Soon it was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of fear as you looked at your miles-long to do list. It was a wobbly start, but eventually you were able to find your footing. Luckily one of your friends from the bookstore had quit a couple of months ago, fed up with Jason, and was still looking for work. Melanie was a few years older than you, smart as all get out and the energy and enthusiasm of a high schooler.

Together you navigated hiring an additional six employees, contacting publishing houses to set up merchandise orders, and working with contractors to give the store a face lift. Luckily all of the original fixtures were still in great shape and there were no major repairs to do. 

Now the day is finally here. As the minutes count down to nine o’clock you and Mel run around making sure everything looks perfect. When the clock hits nine you nervously unlock the gate to the mall. You take a quick look around the store and feel a surge of pride at what you’ve built and go over to the CD player behind the counter to turn on the radio. “This Is How We Do It” by Montel Jordan is just starting when you turn the dial to your favorite station. You smile to yourself, it’s one of your favorite songs, and decide to take it as a good omen.

Moments later a mom comes in with a napping child in a stroller. You greet her and she smiles in response, heading for the mystery section. She’s shortly followed by a group of older women who head for the fiction section, discussing what to choose next for their book club. An older gentleman with a cane gives you a gruff hello and walks over to peruse your racks of newspapers. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, your worst fear – that no one would come – is already alleviated. The ladies in fiction call over Melanie, asking for some suggestions and she gives you an excited grin as she walks over. You smile widely back at her, turning to the entrance as a new person walks in.

Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s the incredibly good looking man from the music store next door. Today his hair is dyed an electric blue, tousled up in messy waves. You’re struck all over again by how attractive he is as his intense eyes meet yours.

“Hi!” you say, wincing at how enthusiastic you sound.

He laughs. “Hey, how’s it going? I figured I should officially introduce myself. I’m Minseok and I own KMS Music,” he says and sticks out his hand.

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you say.

“So, has anyone checked out yet?” he asks, pulling out his wallet.

You laugh and check your watch. “In the two minutes we’ve been open? Not yet. Why?” you ask.

“Perfect. I’ll happily be your first customer,” he says with a smirk. He looks around at the nearby display table and grabs the first book he sees. He sets it on the counter and you both laugh when you see the title – The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Walker, the inspiration for the upcoming romance movie starring Meryl Streep.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to choose something else?”

“No, I’m sticking with my choice. Who knows, it might be my new favorite book,” he says ironically and you laugh as you ring him up. You stick the receipt in the book and hand it back to him.

“Thank you for being my first official customer, I really appreciate it,” you say sincerely, meeting his eyes.

He takes the book under his arm. “Any time, Y/N. I’m just over there if you need anything,” he says and gives you a nod as he walks back through the mall.

It’s a steady, but successful day and when you finally get home you flop onto your bed. You fall asleep almost immediately, filled to the brim with happiness.

August 9, 1995

Minseok wanders up and down the racks of CDs, straightening things he’s already straightened twice before. It’s a warm summer evening, an hour before closing, and the mall is practically deserted. He turns to walk back to the register and he instinctively looks over at your store. Without meaning to, he’s begun to feel quite protective, wanting to make sure things are going well for you. He’s only owned KMS Music for two years, but it still makes him feel like a grizzled business veteran in comparison to you.

When he surreptitiously peeks over into your store he sees you at the counter, one hand cradling your head while the other anxiously sorts through a massive stack of paperwork. You look like you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out. He’s taken three steps toward you before he catches himself. He shakes his head, wondering what he was thinking. He runs a hand through his hair, the messy strands falling into disarray once again.

Just be cool, casual. Ask her if she needs help, he tells himself. Looking around the store he confirms that nothing needs his attention. Alec is at the counter, stickering boxes of new merchandise that came in this morning. “Hey Alec, watch the store for a bit, I’m stepping out,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the mall. Alec gives him a dramatic thumbs up and goes back to pricing, his head bobbing along to the music.

Minseok walks the distance to your store, praying he’s not going to be just another interruption to you. Your assistant manager Melanie is helping a customer choose a mystery novel and another employee who’s name he doesn’t know is organizing some journals against a display wall. He walks over to the counter and leans against it, placing both hands on the smooth surface.

“How’s it going?” he asks, resting his elbows on the counter and regarding you.

You look up at him with a small smile, tilting your head in your hand and sighing dramatically. “Oh, fine. It’s just – I thought I had such a good accounting system set up. But I can’t get anything to add up and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to sort it out.”

“Want some help? I can’t say I’m an accounting genius, but we’ve got a pretty good system going at the store and I’d be happy to take a look,” he offers, hoping he doesn’t come off as too enthusiastic.

“Really? I don’t want to keep you from anything, but that would be amazing. Even just a second set of eyes would be fantastic,” you say, looking relieved.

“Totally. We’re pretty slow tonight so I’ve got all the time in the world,” he says, shrugging.

“Thank you, Minseok, I’d really appreciate it,” you say and turn to Mel, who’s now shelving some new releases nearby. “Hey, Mel. We’re going to attempt to tackle this paperwork debacle. You mind keeping an eye on things?”

“You got it boss!” she calls and you smile. It’s obvious the two of you get along well. He’s happy that you’ve got a good crew around you, impressed with everyone he’s met the few times he’s come in. Picking up the pile of receipts and paperwork you nod your head back to the office and Minseok follows you.

He stops abruptly. “Hang on, if we’re digging into a pile of numbers we’re going to need some reinforcements,” he says and holds up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod and he walks back to the music store, heading straight for his office. He snags his trusty boombox and walks back through the store. He stops by Alec on his way out. “I might be a while over there, if I’m not back by ten are you good to close up?” he asks.

“Sure thing,” Alec says, snapping and giving Minseok two finger guns. Minseok laughs, walking back into the mall. Alec might be a bit eccentric, but for all of his quirks he trusts him completely. Entering your store, he walks behind the counter, following the direction you’d gone.

He walks down the short hallway and finds you in the office at the end. There is indeed a pile of paperwork on the desk. Several large, neatly organized piles. You’re sitting behind the desk, hands spread out, looking ready to go into battle. Minseok rolls up the sleeves on his shirt as he sits down across from you. He sets up the boombox on the desk and hits play. “We Are The Champions” by Queen starts and you look up and give him a genuine smile.

“All right, what are we working with here?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

At 10:15 Mel comes in to hand you the keys and the daily cash and paperwork from the registers, saying she locked up. She wishes you both luck with the “money crapstorm” and leaves for the evening.

It takes two hours to sort everything out. Two hours of Minseok’s questions and your answers. Two hours of you surreptitiously sneaking looks at him. Your mouth practically waters every time you take in his chest, visible over the delicious V of his shirt; every time his arms flex as he flips through papers.

After two hours you’ve finally got it all sorted out. A few small mistakes had been the culprit. A batch of accounts payable receipts that got mixed in with the accounts receivable, a stack of vendor invoices had been stuck in a personnel file, and a week’s worth of paychecks that didn’t get properly accounted for. He helps you bundle everything up and finally at 11:25 you shut the light off and head out. You unlock the gate and you both step into the mall. After you lock the gate behind you and turn to see that KMS music is dark.

You open your mouth to ask about how his store got closed, but he beats you to it. “Don’t worry, Alec has his own set of keys to close things up when I’m not here,” he says with a wry smile.

You can’t believe how much time and effort the gave up to help you sort this out. Full of gratitude, you lean forward and give him a quick hug. Your arms wrap around his strong back and you lean your chin briefly against his shoulder. He lets out a breath in surprise at your enthusiastic movement. One of his arms comes around your back, holding you close for a moment before you both pull back.

“Thanks again, Minseok. I really appreciate it,” you say, blushing, trying to look anywhere but at his face.

“Don’t mention it, I’m happy to help,” he says. You walk in companionable silence to your cars and after he makes sure you’re safely inside, he walks over to his own, giving you a quick wave.

December 24, 1995

Christmas Eve, five in the afternoon. You quickly finish up the paperwork, delighted that the mall closes early tonight, excited about spending the day with your family tomorrow. You’ve been so busy with the store it feels like ages since you’ve had a proper catch up with them. You let Mel go an hour earlier, so she could make the train to her boyfriend’s parents for the holiday. Walking a lazy lap around the store to make sure it’s empty of customers, you jingle your keys in time to the beat of “Waterloo,” your favorite guilty pleasure song.

Satisfied no one’s in the store, you lock up and start the closing paperwork. It was a packed day, everyone doing some last minute shopping before the holiday. You finish up as quickly as you can and head back to the office to put everything in the safe. You turn off the lights as you go, stepping up to the counter to quickly turn off the stereo before heading back through the gate.

You head out the south entrance by the department store, wondering if it’ll still snowing like it was this morning. Stepping out into the cold air you wrap your coat around you and cross your arms, trying to keep in any warmth. Flurries of snow are falling around you and you squeal to yourself with excitement. It usually snows a bit in the winter, but it almost never sticks. Today must be your lucky day because there’s a solid three or four inches on the ground. You take a few steps out onto the sidewalk and spin around, watching the flakes fall onto your palms.

You close your eyes, laughing in delight. You’re so lost in your amusement that you don’t see Minseok until it’s too late. You back into him and in the tangle of limbs you both go down onto the thankfully softened sidewalk. He ends up on top of you, looking at you from above, his hands splayed on either side of your head to hold himself up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right?” you ask, voice high with anxiety. He brushes the hair out of your face with a hand, smiling down at you.

“I’m fine. Though I have to say it’s been a while since anyone swept me off my feet,” he says and you both start laughing.

After a few moments the laughter dies out, but you both remain where you are. Your awareness is drawn to his hard body pressed against yours; you can feel his heat even through the layers of clothing between you. The urge to arch up into him, to remove any space that exists, rises in you. His dark eyes bore into yours, holding you in place. He leans down, an almost imperceptible movement, and your lips part in anticipation. Suddenly he blinks and pulls back, shaking himself, muttering an apology. He stands up fluidly and holds out his hands for yours.

In one swift movement you’re on your feet again, and though nothing has changed in the scene before you, it feels like your whole world has shifted on its axis. He brushes the snow off of himself and you copy the movement, wiping off the flakes attached to your coat and jeans.

“Have a great Christmas Y/N,” he says, his voice lower than it was just moments ago, before turning and walking away.

“You too,” you say. Several moments pass before the cold seeps into your skin and you finally remember where you are. Christmas Eve, heading home. Right. You bite your lip as you scurry to your car, unable to tear your mind away from what almost happened.

February 13th, 1996

Sighing, you lean your head back and roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Another busy Saturday at the mall, the rain driving everyone indoors yet again. It’s the first time you’ve had a spare second to step into the office to grab a drink of water and take a breather. When Mel walked in to start her closing shift you were so grateful you could have kissed her.

Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since oh, maybe eight this morning. You look down at your watch and realize it’s now two o’clock. You grab your wallet from your purse and head out for the food court, checking to make sure that Mel and the staff have things flowing well before catching her attention and mouthing, “getting food, be back,” at her. She nods at you and pouts, rubbing her stomach. You laugh and give her a thumbs up.

When you step into the mall you see that KMS Music is even more slammed than you are. You seem to remember that a huge hip hop album was due to come out today and the crowd in KMS does seem to include more than the usual punk and classic rock enthusiasts Minseok seems to attract. You take a few steps into the store and look around, standing on your tiptoes. Minseok and Alec are at the registers along with one of his newer hires Samantha. Some other employees are working the lines, making sure everyone has what they need to check out quickly. It doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down anytime.

Backing carefully out of the store you head to the food court toward Barada Pizza, your favorite. Now that the lunch rush is over you’re to the front of the line quickly. One of the co-owners Chanyeol is at the register and he gives you his signature grin. “Bookworm! How’s it going? Crazy Saturday huh?” His cheerful voice and his silly nicknames for everyone never fail to put you in a good mood.

“Doing great today Channie, how are you and Soo doing?” you ask. You can see Kyungsoo in the back, working his ass off like usual, moving pizzas around in the large stone fire over in the back, his face pink from the oven’s heat.

“Same old, same old, you know how it is. What can I get for you? The usual two slices of the veggie special?” he asks and you marvel again at how he always remembers your order.

“Actually I’m picking up a whole one for the store, we’re pretty slammed today and Mel’s pretending she’s dying of hunger,” you say and bite your lip, knowing that what you’re going to ask next might set off gossip. “And while I’m here, Minseok’s store is crazy today. What kind of pizza does he usually get?”

Chanyeol gives you an appraising look before his sweet face breaks into a grin. “My boy’s a purist, just plain cheese.”

“Perfect, I’ll take three large cheeses please,” you say, looking anywhere but at Chanyeol’s knowing stare. You always figured that he’s more perceptive than he lets on and wonder if he’s picked up on how you feel about his close friend.

“All right, bookworm. Three large cheeses coming right up,” he says, his voice absent of teasing for once.

Ten minutes later you’re carrying the piping hot boxes back through the mall. You swing by the bookstore and drop one off in the break room, letting everyone know that lunch has arrived. You dodge Mel’s curious expression as she watches you walk back out into the mall toward KMS music.

The crowd is still going strong, only slightly smaller than it was twenty minutes ago. Normally crowds freak you out, but after almost a year of running your own store you’re much more confident. You hold the pizzas above your head to avoid bumping into anyone and begin making your way through the mass of people. Finally you break through at the register and emerge near the gap in the counter that leads toward the back hallway. Alec’s register is closest to you and he lets out a dramatic gasp when he sees you.

“Bless my heart, are those for us?” he asks, licking his lips. You smile and nod. “Hey, Minseok, where can we put these?” he calls over to his boss.

Minseok looks up from the customer he’s helping and he does a double take, his jaw dropping slightly as he realizes what he’s seeing. He hands his customer her receipt and holds up a hand to the next customer, saying someone will be with her in a moment. He snakes his way along the register toward you, calling to one of his other employees, Devon you think his name is, to take his place at the register.

“Are you an angel? This is incredible, follow me,” he says, taking the top pizza from you and leading you along the hallway. He makes a quick right turn into a sparse but lived-in break room. He sets the pizza on an old circular dining table and then takes the one from your hands and puts it on top. “Thank you so much,” he says, turning to you. “It’s been like this since we opened at nine and we’re all absolutely starving. What do I owe you?” he says, reaching back for his wallet.

You quickly wave him off. “No, this is my treat,” you insist, putting your hands on your hips. He gives you a sardonic expression and you know he’s not going to take no for an answer. You throw your hands up and start backing out of the room, an amused grin lighting your face. He follows you down the hall and you both re-enter the store maintaining eye contact. His expression becomes serious and he reaches out a hand to quickly touch your elbow. “Thank you, I meant it,” he says, dark eyes holding yours.

You nod and step back out into the crowd, reluctantly breaking from his scrutiny as you turn to leave. You hear him switch places with Alec, taking his spot at the register so the eccentric young man can go eat first. As you head back to the bookstore you add his dedication to his employees to your mental list of reasons that you’re horribly, achingly in love with him.

April 27th, 1996

Melanie looks up from ringing up a customer. The time is 12pm on the dot and like clockwork you come out from finishing paperwork in the office, check with her that she’s good to cover lunch, and head toward the music store. Every Monday since “the day of the pizza” you’ve wandered into the music store with feigned casualness. And every Monday at noon, like clockwork, she watches Minseok find a reason to be shelving near you, drawing you into conversation. Sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for the entire hour. Those days you rush back into the store and grab a granola bar before going back to work, a megawatt smile on your face.

When she glances up a few minutes later, there you are. Standing by a rack of CDs, not paying them any attention, talking animatedly while he listens intently. She chuckles to herself and goes back to work. Maybe one day you’ll both realize how you feel about each other, she thinks, hoping she’s there to witness it. She and Alec have a bet going about how long it will take one of you to admit your feelings. She bets that you’ll be the first to confess, but he has money on Minseok breaking first. Alec thinks it will be sometime this summer, while she just hopes it’s sometime this decade.

July 14th, 1996

Today he’s joking with a customer when you walk in, a regular that you recognize. A tall man with a brightly colored Mohawk and a leather jacked with studded shoulders. Minseok throws his head back, laughing. It’s a high, throaty sound you love. You wander up and down the aisles, hands in your pockets, trying to feel out what you’re in the mood for today.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, suddenly appearing next to you.

“Good, the usual Monday, you?” He shrugs and tilts his hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’m looking for something new today. Trying to branch out from my usual ABBA.” He laughs. “Got any suggestions?”

“Y/N, you know I have thousands of suggestions. You’ll have to narrow it down a bit for me.”

“Surprise me,” you say playfully. “Dealer’s choice, anything you want. I trust your taste.”

He raises his eyebrows at the praise. He rubs his hands together. “Ooh, a challenge. All right, let me see,” he says, his sharp eyes running up and down the racks. “Here, try this. It’s a little funky, a little rock, very chill. Check it out, let me know what you think,” he says and hands you the CD. There’s a pink cloud of smoke on the cover, leading to what looks like a subway station. The Velvet Underground – Loaded.

You take the disc and move to walk to the register. “Looks interesting, I’ll take it.”

His hand darts out to lightly grab your wrist. “No way, it’s on the house. I’ll only make you pay for it if you say you don’t like it,” he says in his usual acerbic tone.

“All right, fine. But only if I can lend you one of my favorite books in return,” you say and poke a finger to his chest.

“Deal,” he says. For you he’d read the Encyclopedia Britannica, or the phone book, he thinks. You give him a sweet smile and walk back to the bookstore, studiously reading the track list on the back of the disc. He shakes his head to himself, marveling at how much he likes it when you listen to his favorite songs. How much he looks forward to these Mondays with you.

He can practically hear his friend Chanyeol’s voice in his head, calling him a wuss for not just sucking it up and asking you out. But he’s content to have you in his life in any way, not wanting to risk what he has now.

September 30th, 1996

He sits across from you in the food court, watching; his eyes constantly leaving the pages of the book you lent him, drawn to you instead. It’s not that the book isn’t interesting, it’s just that he finds he’s always paying attention to you these days, attuned to your frequency every time you get near. 

Three tables separate him from you, but it might as well be a hundred since you look like you’re in another world all to yourself. Reading a book, resting your cheek in one hand while you flip pages with the other. Your lunch lies untouched next to you, ignored as your eyes hungrily scan the page.

He wishes it was his hands on your face, thinking he’d never be able to stop if he started touching you. He imagines running his hands through your hair, tracing his fingers along your jaw and down your neck. Maybe his touch would earn him a blush, a sight he’s only seen twice, but both times almost brought him to his knees.

“Hey man, you ready to go?” Chanyeol’s loud voice asks from above, startling him.

He quickly looks away, hoping you won’t catch him watching. “Yeah, lets go,” he says, gathering up his stuff and heading toward the pub in the food court after Chanyeol.

He can’t resist a look back, just a quick turn of the head. You’re still enamored with your book, a pleased smile now adorning your face. Something you read must have made you happy. He feels his mouth turn up in response. Just knowing that something gives you such pleasure makes him feel like everything’s right with his world.

January 11th, 1997

You’re straightening displays in the window while you wait for your friend to meet you for lunch. You spot Minseok coming down the mall from the food court. His hair is slicked back up into a retro style, a long silver earring in one ear, his favorite tight leather jacket hugging his body. You bite down on your lip, studiously focusing on your task to avoid staring too long. He makes you painfully aware of how long it’s been since anyone but your cat Chewey shared your bed.

You blush to yourself. Friends of yours claim that the nineties is the second coming of the sixties. A new wave of free love; empowered women who aren’t waiting on a man to choose them, happy and free in their sexual independence. But you’re very aware that while you’re thrilled for them, it’s just not your style. They call you old fashioned and jokingly tell you you’ll be waiting for eternity if you’re looking for someone like a Mr. Darcy. It’s not that you want some Regency hero to ride up on a horse and save you, you’re doing just fine by yourself, thank you very much. It’s just that every time your friends try to set you up with someone your mind wanders back to a certain man instead and they just don’t seem to measure up.

“So, have you told him you’re in love with him yet?” a cheerful voice teases in your ear. You jolt in surprise and turn around to face your friend. She’s standing there grinning at you while you frantically look around to make sure no one heard her. You give her a disapproving frown and grab her hand, pulling her toward the food court. Once you’re far away from your store you release her and turn on her with your best angry face.

“What if someone had heard you?” you demand, fighting a smile, knowing that you won’t really be able to stay mad at her for long.

She twines her arm in yours and pulls you toward the tiny vegan restaurant in the food court. “Welllll if he’d heard you it might have forced you to do something about it. Babe, this is the nineties, you can just ask him out. He seems like the type to respect a strong, forward woman,” she teases, pulling on your arm to shake you out of your terrified expression.

“Ha ha, can you imagine me having the guts to ask him out? Have you even seen him? What would Mick Jagger want with… with Pollyana? No, I think Mark Twain said it best, ‘it is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool that to open it and remove all doubt.’”

She gives you a playful shove as you get in line for food. “Oh, come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Umm, hello. We work right next to each other. If it went bad I would feel so awkward I’d have to move to Alaska to escape. No, thank you. I’ll happily exist in my fantasy world where the men are nice and safe and best of all, fictional. Anyways, enough about me and my desolate love life, how are you? How’s the job search going - are you still temping?” you ask, desperate to move the conversation away from your pointless longing for Minseok.

“God, don’t remind me. I’m on my fourth assignment this month alone. I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” she says, pouting.

“You know, I heard Sinful’s looking to take on someone to help out for a while with Valentine’s Day coming up. It might not last too long, but the hours are solid and Yixing’s a friend. I could put in a good word for you if you want?”

“Really? That would be fantastic! Anything to get a few solid weeks of paychecks under my belt. I’d appreciate it so much,” she says and squeezes your arm in gratitude. Finally the line moves and you and your friend step up to order.

January 13th, 1997

“For the love of everything holy, dude. Will you just ask her out already?” Chanyeol says, exasperated, leaning over the counter while Minseok totals receipts. “You’re killing me here.”

Minseok sneaks a look across the mall to where you are bagging up the money at the register, sticking the bag under your arm as you gather up your paperwork. He shakes his head and gives Chanyeol a rueful smile. “No way, she’s totally out of my reach. What would she want with a punk like me?” 

Chanyeol holds up a hand and opens his mouth to object, but Minseok cuts him off. “And before you say anything, that wasn’t a sleight against myself. She’s just… she’s all Jane Austen and I’m Boo freaking Radley. As you so delight in pointing out, I’m a cranky hermit who’s incapable of normal human interaction. She deserves the world, and I’m nowhere near romantic or thoughtful enough to give it to her,” he says emphatically.

“All right, I’ll leave it alone. For now. But I still think you’re underestimating yourself and how good you could be together,” Chanyeol says, throwing his hands up and going back to reading his comic book.

You step out into the mall and slide the gate closed, locking it into place. Chanyeol sees you approaching and gives you a big wave. “Bookworm! How’s it going? You’re coming to Baekhyun’s party tonight right?” he asks, drawing you in for an affectionate one-armed hug. Minseok narrows his eyes at Chanyeol over the top of your head and pointedly looks at his hand around your back. Chanyeol gives him an teasing look, but still releases you a second later. 

“Yeah, absolutely. I’m on my way there now. You’re both coming right?” you ask, directing the question to Chanyeol but focusing your attention on Minseok.

“Oh for sure, I’m just waiting on my boy Min here to hurry the heck up so we can get a move on,” he says, spinning his hands to indicate speeding things up.

“Awesome, well, I’ll see you both there,” you say brightly and head toward the parking lot.

Chanyeol gives Minseok a knowing look but doesn’t say anything. A few minutes later Minseok’s finally closed the gate and put away the money. Chanyeol hits the lights and they exit through the front doors out into the parking lot. They both turn at the sound of your frustrated groan. Your car hood is up and you’re staring at it with a look of dismay. Chanyeol smacks Minseok on the shoulders and points. “Me thinks there’s a lady in need of your services,” he says with a grin.

Minseok turns to Chanyeol, trying to grab his arm, but he dances out of the way. “Sorry amigo, I’ve got a party to get to. And you’ve got a date with destiny,” he says, giving his friend a wry grin.

Minseok sighs and starts off in your direction. Crossing the parking lot he tugs on his jacket, straightening it out. He rubs his hands on the sides of his jeans, willing himself to appear more together around you than he is. Hoping you can’t see how unnerved you make him. He can’t help but think how cute you look, lips pouted, hands on your hips, your head cocked to the side as you study the mystery that is your car engine.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asks, sticking his hands in his pocket in an attempt at casualness.

You whip your head up and smile when you realize who it is. “Minseok, oh thank goodness. I’ve tried starting it a billion times, but it just keeps making this grinding noise.” You let out a sigh. “I know how to change the tires and the oil, but this is way beyond my limited knowledge.”

He steps as close as he dares, moving next to you to peek into the hood, illuminated by the streetlight above you. He peers inside, taking in all the wires and pipes. He lets out a laugh. “Well, unfortunately I don’t know anything about cars. But I can give you a ride to Baekhyun’s party and then drop you off at home tonight. In the morning I’d be happy to pick you up and you can call my friend Jim from the store. He’s a mechanic and he’d be happy to drive over and take a look at it tomorrow,” he says looking hopeful.

You reach over and touch his arm. “That would be perfect, thank you.” You close the hood and go around to your passenger seat to grab your purse and jacket, locking the car. “Lead the way.”

He opens the door for you and you slide into the dark leather seat with a word of thanks. He tries and fails to stop his mind from imagining that this is the beginning of a date. That he’ll get to sit close to you at a restaurant, his hand finding your thigh under the table. That he’ll get to hold your beautiful face in his hands and kiss you goodnight. Get to ask you all the questions he’s been dying to know the answers to; get to discover the little details of your life that are still a mystery to him.

“Everything okay?” you ask, looking up at him with a curious expression.

Shit, he thinks. He nods and gently closes the door. He gives himself a shake as he walks around to the driver’s side. You can do this, he tells himself. He slides in and closes the door. Moving to start the car he notices you’ve got your hands full with his large CD case, curiously flipping through and analyzing his collection. This could be any night, you two together, about to head out on the town, carefully selecting the evening’s soundtrack. He doesn’t let himself acknowledge how much he desperately wishes it were true.

When you notice him watching you give him a sly grin. “It’s like seeing the man behind the curtain. What does Minseok, renowned music expert, listen to in his personal life?” you say, obviously enjoying yourself. “Will you show me what your favorite is?” you ask, eyes bright.

He sighs and leans over, flipping a few sleeves until he finds what he’s looking for. He notices your intake of breath at his closeness and swallows around the lump that’s risen in his throat. He slips out a CD and switches it for the one in the player. The CD starts and he skips to the sixth song. 

The drums start and you tilt your head as you try to place the song. Then a smooth, beautiful voice starts singing, accompanied by a jazzy guitar. Your mouth parts in surprise. You’d expected the classics; Rolling Stones, Queen, Nirvana maybe. Anything but this sensual, soulful song. The sound wraps around you in the enclosed car. As the singer hits a high note you close your eyes in appreciation.

He feels like his heart is trying to leap out of his chest. You look so beautiful, your face a mask of pleasure as the strains of his favorite song wash over you. Your full lips and profile highlighted in the swath of light coming into the car from the streetlight. He takes full advantage of your closed eyes to drink in your face. He told Chanyeol he wasn’t romantic, but somehow you’ve twisted your way into his heart. He wishes he had the words to express how you make him feel, he’d write you song after song if he could.

The song gently tapers out and you open your eyes to meet his. The next song starts but neither of you are paying it any attention. “Who is this?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the spell cast by the song.

“Marvin Gaye. Trouble Man,” he answers, ducking his head. “Probably not what you were expecting?” he asks, looking back to you, a fierce desire to know how you see him.

You giggle and shake your head. “Definitely not what I was expecting. But I like it. I feel like I’ve gotten to see a side of you I wasn’t expecting,” you say softly.

“Rock will always have my heart, but Marvin speaks to my soul. No pun intended” he says with a lopsided smile.

You open your mouth to say something but a car starts across from you, sending light flooding around you. It’s Kyungsoo from Barada. He gives you and Minseok a quick wave and then turns his head to start backing out.

“Well, we should probably get going. God knows if I leave Chanyeol in charge of the music it’s going to be Oingo Boingo on repeat all night,” he says and turns to back out of the space, anxious to leave so he doesn’t do anything dangerous with you so near, like pull you close to finally learn what you taste like.

Minseok walks out from the kitchen holding two cups of beer and stops short. The man who owns the chocolate shop, Yixing he thinks is his name, is talking to you now, holding a cup in one hand and leaning in to speak to you over the noise. You’re smiling and nodding, and he feels like his blood has gone ice cold.

"What’s wrong with you?” Alec asks, suddenly appearing next to him, already tipsy. He follows Minseok’s gaze to where you and Yixing are talking. He laughs, a high sound, and smacks Minseok on the back. “Dude, you are so oblivious.”

Minseok turns to regard Alec, wondering if his unspoken fear has come true and you are seeing someone else without him realizing it. “What, are they together or something?” He asks, feigning disinterest.

Alec laughs again and shakes his head. “No. Jesus, you really don’t know? Okay my man, when you go back over there just watch her face, all right? Trust me,” he says in a patronizing manner that would bother Minseok if he wasn’t completely focused on you.

He starts walking over, moving around groups of people talking, not paying them any attention. When he breaks through the mass of people he approaches you and Yixing. You turn your head to look at him. It’s like the sun has come out, he thinks. The bright pleasure on your face when you meet his gaze, your mouth turning up at the corners; a smile just for him. A second, two, you watch him, and then you look down. A blush blooms on your cheeks and you bite your lip, quickly glancing back at him before returning your attention to Yixing. He stops himself from sighing in relief. Could Alec be right? he wonders. Do you somehow feel the same way?

When he comes up to you he hands you the cup, giving you a warm smile. You take the cup and wave a hand at Yixing. “Minseok, do you know Yixing? He owns Sinful and I think I’ve convinced him to hire my friend for the Valentine’s rush,” you say with a pleased smile, voice giddy with excitement.

Yixing reaches out a hand. “Good to meet you, I love your store. You’ve got a great selection,” he says to Minseok. He shakes Yixing’s hand, nodding in thanks.

“Just tell your friend to swing by any time I’m open with her resume. I’d be happy to meet with her. Sounds like she’d be perfect,” he says to you before nodding his head in parting and heading back into the party.

Minseok joins you in leaning against the wall and starts regaling you with the story of his latest run in with a crazy regular of his; a teenager who always tries to make off with a CD under his arm. You easily slip into a flow with him, discussing your businesses, the patrons of the mall, the books and movies you trade back and forth.

Some time later the opening beats of “Dead Man’s Party” start playing and Minseok groans. He looks over to the CD player in the corner and of course finds Chanyeol closing the Oingo Boingo case. It doesn’t matter that it’s either way too early or far too late in the year for the song, Chanyeol loves it anyways. The couples dancing in the center of the living room aren’t even phased by the change in vibe and start shaking their heads in time to the funky beat.

Chanyeol grabs a girl nearby and drags her onto the dance floor. She and Baekhyun are always laughing and joking together at the theater whenever you and your friend stop in to see a movie on the weekends. You’ve gotten to know them pretty well through various run-ins around the mall in the past few months. Her head tips back with laughter as Chanyeol spins her around in an uncoordinated mess. Minseok rolls his eyes, but watches them with a content smile.

Looking around the party you realize how many people you actually know here. Yixing is in a discussion with Junmyeon nearby, both gesturing emphatically as they argue their points. Alec and Sam from KMS are doing a shot of some awful looking green liquid with some of the staff from Barada while Kyungsoo looks on skeptically, drinking a soda. Baekhyun comes charging onto the dance floor, dragging another girl with him. You can’t remember her name but you’re pretty sure she recently started working at the clothing store adjacent to your bookshop. 

She cracks up at Baekhyun’s dramatic and awful dance moves, bending over, holding her stomach she’s laughing so hard. You smile suddenly, thinking that you couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to know.

You’re not usually the type to dance in public, but your good mood is demanding that you get in on the action. Setting down your cup you hold your hand out to Minseok. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?” you ask and raise an eyebrow at him. 

He sighs like it’s a huge burden but then gives you a sardonic smile, sets down his drink, and grabs your hand. It’s firm warmth wraps around your hand as he leads you into the fray. He finds a spot in the middle of the crowd and you stumble into him as Chanyeol comes spinning past with his partner, bumping into you.

His arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you give him a smile in thanks. You realize abruptly how close you are. It would be nothing really, to lean forward and press your lips to his. You pull yourself back to a more appropriate distance, mentally shaking yourself out of the thought. The next song starts up and soon you and Minseok are twisting and shaking along with the beats.

He looks so much less intimidating this way, his wavy hair going off in all directions. His expression is joyful and open as he dances wildly to make you smile. Chanyeol makes another lap around and sees his friend on the dance floor. He gives a loud whoop and thumps Minseok on the back, yelling, “That’s my boy!” as he twirls his partner.

After the album finishes Minseok rushes over to the CD player to start something else before Chanyeol can put Dead Man’s Party on for a second time. A minute later everyone cheers as the opening beats to “No Diggity” start playing. He meets your bewildered expression and gives you a wry smile. You laugh, knowing how much he loves to surprise you with music you aren’t expecting.

He makes his way back through the crowd to you. His gaze turns intent, tilting his head down to watch you through his lashes, sending a wave of heat to your core. He pulls off his leather jacket and sets it on a couch. In his dark jeans and tight black shirt he looks good enough to eat. You involuntarily swallow and look down quickly to pull an invisible speck of dust off your black dress. 

When you look back up he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. You put your hand back into his, your other arm finding his shoulder as his hand slips around your waist.

He steps close to you and you both start moving in time to the smooth beats. Being this intimate with him might very well kill you, you think. You look anywhere but in his eyes, desperately trying to avoid the fierce desires battling inside you; not sure which is stronger, the need to speak the words in your heart or to beg him to put those glorious lips of his anywhere on your body.

You shake your head with amusement. What is this party doing to you? The heat from his nearness, the smell of his subtle cologne, the sensual music; after a few songs you start to feel like you’re drowning, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. You slip a step, feeling unexpectedly lightheaded. 

He pulls you back to scan your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes to take in your flushed cheeks. “Want to get some air?” he asks, raising his voice over the music. You nod and lean against him as he leads you through the crowd to a room with two leather chairs in front of a television, filled with video game systems.

He gently helps you into one of the chairs, sitting in the other and scooting close, keeping his arm securely around your back. You rest your elbows on your thighs, holding your forehead in your hands while you take deep breaths. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not drunk – I think I might be getting sick though,” you say and groan.

“No need to apologize, can you wait here for a moment? I’ll go get our stuff and I can take you home,” he says and rises to stand.

You grab his hand and squeeze, drawing his attention back to you. “Thank you,” you tell him earnestly. He squeezes your hand back with a smile and goes through the hallway to retrieve your coats and bag. 

He comes back quickly and helps you into your coat, walking you back through the party with his arm firmly around your back. You stop to say goodbye to Baekhyun and Chanyeol who both give you sympathetic hugs and tell you they hope you feel better soon.

The drive home is quiet. You give Minseok your address and he leaves the music off so you can rest for a bit, curled up against the side of his car while he drives. He pulls up to your house and hesitates, seeing that you’ve fallen asleep. Time stretches out as he wonders what to do. He wants to drive straight to the hospital to make sure you’re okay, but he logically knows it’s probably one of those twenty-four hour bugs that come and go all the time as a side effect of working with the public.

Eventually he puts the car in park and gets out, walking over to your side. He eases the door open and props you up with his hands, one cupping your head and one on your arm to stop you from rolling. You open your eyes blearily at him. “Do you think you can walk inside or would you like me to carry you?” he asks, holding you gently.

You blink a few times and seem to come back to yourself. “I can walk I think,” you say, your voice thin and scratchy. With his help you get up the steps and inside the house, dropping your purse on the couch and shrugging out of your coat. “I’ll be all right, I’m just going to go straight to bed and get some sleep. Thanks so much for your help Minseok,” you say with a weak smile.

He hesitates, wanting to make sure you’re okay. But he tears himself away before he does something really impulsive, like demand to spend the night so he can check on you. He pulls out a crumpled receipt from his pocket and walks over to your dining table to grab a pen. He writes down his name and number and leaves the paper for you. “There’s my number, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, okay? Still want me to drive you to work tomorrow or do you think you’ll be too sick?” he asks.

“No, no. I have a good immune system. A little sleep and a few big cups of orange juice in the morning and I should be good to go. Promise. How does eight forty sound?”

“I’ll be here,” he says and walks over to the door. He looks back and you give him a sleepy wave before heading down the hall. He gently shuts your door and walks back to his car.

January 14th, 1997

The morning dawns clear and bright. He’s already been up since six in the morning, unable to sleep most of the night; torn between worrying about you and trying not to remember how good you felt in his arms. Finally at 8:22 he can’t take waiting anymore and heads out to his car. Of course he gets there too early, it only takes six minutes to get from his place to yours. He circles the block aimlessly for ten more minutes to kill time before finally parking out front of your apartment. He practically sprints up the steps to your door, pausing to calm his breathing before knocking.

Several moments pass before you finally open the door. He takes in your disheveled appearance. Hair unbound around your shoulders, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants, carrying a handful of tissues. You lean against the door frame, your nose red. “You know, everyone always complains about how easy it is to get sick working in a mall, and here I thought I was immune to it,” you say, pouting.

He smiles sympathetically at you, that overwhelming desire to take care of you rising again. “Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together?” you ask, eyes closing involuntarily as you try and stand up on your own without the support of the door.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, rushing forward to steady you. “Can anyone cover for you today? I don’t think you should try to work.”

You wrinkle your brow as you try to think through the fog in your mind. “Um, well Mel could probably come in early and I just finished training Nathan on closing duties,” you say through your sniffling.

“Perfect, why don’t you give them a call?” he asks, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door against the cold weather. He walks you over to your couch and gently helps you sit down. The phone is lying on the side table and he hands it to you. A few minutes later everything is sorted out and you drop the phone onto the couch with a sigh of relief. Glancing up you find Minseok staring at you with an intent look on his face.

“Okay, how about this. Why don’t you take a hot shower while I run out to get some supplies? What symptoms are you having?” he asks, scanning your face and body.

“Hmm, let’s see. My whole body just feels achy and weak. I’ve got a fever, I think. I can’t really tell with all the congestion going on,” you reply with a pout.

“Got it. I’ll be back in about half an hour, okay?” he says.

You want to object, to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you. But you’re too tired and sick to object, and you honestly can’t remember the last time you let someone take care of you, so you just nod at him and manage a small smile. He heads out and you drag your aching body into the bathroom and start the shower.

When he comes back, twenty nine minutes later, he’s carrying four shopping bags. You’re laying down on the couch, bundled up in your pajamas with a towel wrapped around your head. He comes over to kneel down at the coffee table and starts unpacking the bags. 

“I wasn’t sure what you had, so I kind of bought everything,” he says pulling more and more things out. Ibuprofen, cold medicine, cough drops, throat spray. More packs of tissues. Several different colors of Gatorade. A large to-go container of what smells like chicken noodle soup. A couple cans of ginger ale. And selection of VHS tapes from Blockbuster.

“Do you want to eat something?” he asks and you nod weakly in response. He digs around in the bags until he finds a spoon. He pops the lid off of the soup and slides it over to you before twisting the cap off of a yellow Gatorade and setting it next to the soup. He comes and sits beside you on the couch, holding the towel out of your face while you eat and drink.

The soup is delicious and warms you up straight away, the Gatorade gives you a burst of energy. When you’re finished he waves a hand to the array of medicine in front of you. “So, first off - have you taken any medicine today? And if not, what’s the biggest pain point at the moment?” he asks, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“I took some Tylenol, but that was last night, I haven’t had anything today. The worst of it is the congestion, and this awful sinus headache that won’t go away,” you say, rubbing your temples.

“Got it. Let me grab you some water to take this with,” he says, grabbing the bottle of bottle of cold medicine and unscrewing the cap. He stands up and walks into your small, bright kitchen. He finds the glasses on his second try and brings you a tall glass of water to take the pills with. Once you swallow them he rejoins you on the couch, shaking out a fluffy blanket and putting it over you. 

“There’s something my mother used to do when I got sick that felt like it helped. Do you mind if I try it?” he asks.

You nod weakly and he eases your head into his lap so you’re laying down, gently taking the towel off your hair and setting it on the back of the couch. You feel incredibly warm and safe, resting on his thigh. His strong hands start rubbing your temples and you sigh at how good it feels. He eases his way through your hair, rubbing your scalp, slowly making his way to your neck. The combination of the medicine and his gentle massage eases the pain and you can feel yourself falling asleep.

You curl up against him, moving your head to get more comfortable. In your impaired state you don’t think before you speak. “Would you sing to me?” you ask dreamily, your voice sounding far away.

He sighs and you hear him quietly mutter, “Only for you,” to himself. “What would you like to hear?” he asks.

“Mm, anything you want. I love your voice,” you say.

He thinks for a moment and then starts humming. “Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance. With the stars up above in your eyes,” he sings quietly. You smile as his gentle voice lulls you off to sleep, singing one of your favorite songs off of an album he’s shared with you.

When you wake up the sky outside has gone dark. You turn your head up and see that Minseok has fallen asleep against the side of your couch, your head resting on his hip. You don’t feel all the way better, but the headache has subsided and you’re able to breathe fully again. You were having a lovely dream where he was singing to you. 

You giggle to yourself. Like he would ever sing to you; he’s told you he absolutely hates singing and always refuses to come to karaoke when you invite him along with you and your friend. He wakes up at your quiet laughter, blinking his eyes as he processes where he is.

“Sorry I woke you,” you whisper, leaning up off him and settling into the back of the couch.

He rolls his neck, rubbing his face in his hands. “No problem at all. Wow, what time is it? Sorry, I guess I fell asleep too,” he says and smiles sheepishly at you.

“Goodness, don’t worry about it. You deserve it after everything you did for me. Seriously, Minseok this is amazing. Thank you so much,” you say, moved by how sweet and kind he is. 

You stand up and turn on the light next to the couch. Walking gingerly over to the over to read the digital clock, you are shocked to see how late it is. “It’s six twenty. Wow, we really slept the day away huh?”

He opens his mouth to speak but a loud grumbling sound from his stomach cuts him off. “If you don’t have any plans, how about I order us a pizza and we watch one of the movies you brought?” you offer.

“That sounds perfect,” he says, pleasure lighting his features.

You spend the night watching Clerks and splitting a large pizza, half plain cheese, half veggie. When he finally leaves around nine at night you’re feeling much better already. He insists on leaving all the medicine “just in case” and arranges to pick up tomorrow morning for work. 

You fall asleep in bed with a satisfied grin on your face, filled with gratitude at the fact you have someone as amazing as Minseok in your life.

May 20, 1997

Finally taking a break from the busy sale day celebrating your second anniversary, you’re seated in your desk chair, feeling rebellious with your feet propped up on the desk. It pays to be the boss, you think with a smirk. You look over at a soft knock on the door. Mel enters, holding a package wrapped in colorful purple paper, a simple white bow on the top.

“What’s that?” you inquire.

“It just came for you,” she practically squeals, joy coming out of her every pore.

“Okay… and? Is it a delivery?”

“Nope. And you’ll never guess who just brought it over,” she teases, holding the package above her head and bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’m not guessing, just give it to me,” you say with a laugh, holding your hand out.

“Okay fine, I’ll tell you. But can I watch you open it?” she pleads, putting the package on the desk and holding her hands out in front of her in prayer. Her over-the-top excitement makes you laugh.

“All right, all right. Fine!” you say and she claps happily.

“It was Minseok,” she says, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

Your breath catches. The past few months you’ve been desperately fighting off your growing feelings for him. That day he’d taken care of you had seriously done things to your heart and it had been hard to keep up your Monday conversations without fantasizing about him as a permanent fixture in your home and your life.

You unravel the white ribbon and peel off the paper carefully. You go slowly - partially to annoy the heck out of Mel, but mostly because surprise is such a rare element of your life and you want to prolong the delicious moment of curiosity as long as possible.

You pull the paper away to uncover a small stack of CDs, still in their protective packaging. You gasp, one hand reaching for your chest without realizing it, as if preemptively trying to protect your reckless heart for reading too much into the gift.

Jagged Little Pill - Alanis Morissette, the first CD you ever bought from him.

ABBA Gold, the CD you play over and over at closing time, distracting yourself from late night paperwork. 

News of the World - Queen, the CD he played when you spent that long night sorting through the paperwork debacle. 

Loaded – The Velvet Underground, one of his favorites that he suggested to you. 

Dead Man’s Party – Oingo Boingo, the CD you’d danced to at Baekhyun’s party.

Another Level – Blackstreet. You blush remembering how he’d looked at you as he walked through the crowd, his eyes full of something you’d wildly hoped was desire. 

Trouble Man – Marvin Gaye. He’d said that album held his soul and for such a badass punk it seemed so incongruous, but when you looked back and saw his eyes, endless and deep like they’d experienced a hundred lifetimes, you knew he was even more than you’d imagined him to be.

The last three CDs stump you. This Is How We Do It - Montel Jordan. You ponder for a moment and then remember; that first morning you opened. It was playing on the radio while he made your first purchase ever, you’d taken it to be a good omen. Van Morrison – Moondance. You purse your lips and think back. Yes, it was one of the dozens of CDs he’d lent you and yes, it was one of your favorites, but you couldn’t figure out why he was including it.

Nearly giving yourself whiplash, you sit back suddenly, hand flying up to cover your mouth. Coming to you as if from a long forgotten memory, you hear his soft voice singing the title song to you. The darkness of the room and the fog from your sick state had made you think it was a dream. 

What if it was real? you wonder, heart skipping a beat at the thought.

The last one is Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd. You tilt your head in confusion, flipping the CD over to the back and scanning the track list. With a rush it comes back to you. That cold, rainy night in February, more than two years ago; walking into his store, searching for angry music. 

The first time you’d seen him “Money” had been playing over the speakers. You can’t believe you remember that after all these years.

If he remembered that too, if he was giving you these, maybe he’d been paying as close attention to you as you were to him all these long months. You shake your head, trying to rip out that silly hope before it grows roots in your mind. No, he’s just good at knowing his customers, his friends. He’s just naturally observant, you tell yourself.

Flipping through the cases again a piece of paper slips out between two of the CDs and falls to the desk. It’s a faded receipt. You can just read the name of your bookstore and the date and time. May 20th, 1995 9:04 am. The Bridges of Madison County. You gasp. You can’t believe he’s kept it this long. There’s two lines of words scrawled on the bottom of the receipt in his hurried, messy writing. Just two lines, but they completely undo you.

Happy second anniversary Y/N. I’ll always be there for you, any time.

You stand up suddenly, moving to the door, only to stop two steps later. What’s your plan? Go over and confess your undying love for him? Mel steps over to you, turning you towards her, unable to wait any longer. 

“Don’t leave me hanging babe. I know they’re from Minseok, but what do they mean? Why do you look like you’re about to pass out? And is it a good thing or a bad thing?” she rambles, eyes darting over your face like the answers are written on your flushed skin. 

You force yourself to walk back to your desk and sit down, setting the pile of CDs in front of you. Propping your elbows up on the desk, you interlace your fingers in front of your mouth, thinking.

You breathe out a big sigh. “It might just be a thoughtful gift from a friend. Or it might mean… everything. These albums are so personal to me, to him,” you say softly. “To us.” You put your head in your hands, gripping your hair tightly to stop yourself from sprinting across that short twenty feet and into his arms to bare your heart to him.

It’s Schrödinger’s love story, one path where you do the brave thing and another where you chicken out and don’t act on it, remaining in this limbo forever. But you can’t sit here forever, staring at the CDs, wondering. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that by the time you finally look up from the stack on your desk Mel is gone and the door is gently pulled to. 

A line from one of your favorite childhood books whispers through your mind. Courage, dear heart, you think and smile to yourself, your mind made up.

“Screw it, I’ve got to know,” you say to yourself and push back in your chair, standing abruptly.

You scurry down the hall back into the store. You find Mel at the registers ringing up a small line of people, patiently waiting with their merchandise. You distantly acknowledge the line of people, pleased that the sale went well, confirming once more that this was the right path for you. But a larger part of you is carried along on a wave of purpose. 

You dash by Mel and she looks up. Seeing your excited face, your nervous grin, she instantly knows where you’re going. She gives you a thumbs up and calls out “Good luck!” as you rush past.

It’s only twenty feet but the distance feels enormous, your mind swirling with the possibilities. You stop in the middle of the mall. What if he turns you away, embarrassed at how much you read into the gift and your friendship? What if he’s already in a relationship and he’s just such a private person he’s never mentioned it? What if, what if, what if. 

Another voice rises up in your mind, demanding the others be quiet. After a lifetime spent reading and quietly observing others you’re ready to do something brave. Something else brave, you remind yourself, turning to look at the bookstore with pride. You can do this, you tell yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up straighter, prepared for anything, filled to the brim with love and hope. You resume your walk across the tiled floor and into the music store, the soft strains of a Beatles song playing overhead, reminding you that all you need is love. Turning toward the counter you see Alec lazily flipping through a magazine. You hurry over and put your hands on the counter, causing Alec to turn and look at you.

He regards you thoughtfully before giving you a lopsided smile, shaking his head. “Lordy, you two are so alike, it’s hilarious,” he mutters. “If you’re looking for Minseok he just left, he went that way,” he says pointing out the front doors to the parking lot. “Go get him girlie,” he says and chuckles to himself.

Too nervous to even speak you just nod furiously several times before your body carries you toward the doors. You put your arms out in front of you to push the door open as you rush forward at full speed. Stumbling outside, gasping in the cool air, you frantically scan the parking lot for his figure. 

There, up ahead, just unlocking his car. You’d recognize his leather jacket anywhere. You dart into the street, dodging an oncoming car that honks angrily at you. You wave a hand in apology behind you as you sprint forward. His name rises in your throat.

“Minseok!” you call, and he turns around in your direction. His surprised expression quickly turns worried as he takes in your flushed cheeks and fast pace. You rush up to him and he catches you in his arms, holding onto your elbows to steady you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, eyes concerned.

You breathe deeply a few times to calm your frantic heart. “Everything. Nothing. I mean - I got your present,” you say, watching him closely.

He ducks his head and gives you a shy smile, so unlike his usual confidence. “Oh, right. Well, it’s a big day. Most businesses don’t make it two years and yet here you are, still kicking ass. I wanted to do something to commemorate that,” he says.

You could just leave it at that, you think. Tell him thank you for the support and the friendship and the sweet gift and go back inside. But your newfound courage won’t let you cop out now. 

“Minseok… did you sing for me?” you ask, voice urgent and full of feeling.

He doesn’t need you to clarify what day you mean. He blushes and looks off to the side, nodding once, twice. He looks back to meet your eyes and nods once more, slowly. You feel your eyes fill with joyful tears. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and lean in to swiftly press a kiss to his lips. You linger there for a moment before pulling back. His hands come to rest on your hips, his expression shocked.

You rush to explain before you lose your nerve. “Thank you, Minseok. Thank you for helping me out so many times. Thank you for the sweet gift, thank you for taking care of me when I was sick. I know that what I just did and what I’m about to say might change everything, but I want you to know that I’ll always be your friend if that’s all you want.” You inhale sharply, steadying yourself.

“But I have to tell you, I think – I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve never said anything since I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I had to tell you, even if it’s just this once. I love you, Minseok,” you say, finishing in a rush. “I love you,” you repeat softly. You take a deep breath and let it out, dropping your hands to his arms, waiting for his reaction.

A triumphant looks comes across his face and he winds an arm around your back. His other hand slides up to cup your face. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with feeling. He pulls you flush up against him and kisses you fully, slowly moving his lips along yours. You move your hands up into his hair, finally, finally getting to see what it feels like. His hands grip your hips, holding you close as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You both moan as his tongue slips in to tangle with yours. The reality of him is better than any fantasy you could ever have come up with, you think in a haze.

“Ha! I knew it! You owe me fifty bucks!” someone yells from the direction of the mall. You and Minseok break apart to see Mel and Alec standing there. Mel is doing a happy dance and Alec is reaching into his wallet with a disgruntled sigh.

“Did you bet on us?!” you call out to her, laughing in disbelief. Minseok laughs next to you, the sound vibrating through his chest against yours.

“Yes, but don’t worry, I won!” Mel calls back, poking Alec in the chest before dragging him back inside, brandishing the bill in triumph.

You look back at Minseok, confused. “I guess we were only good at hiding our feelings from each other,” he laughs.

“Wait, how long have you liked me?” you ask, breaking into a grin at the realization that he actually feels the same way. “Holy shit, you like me?”

He tilts his head back and cracks up, both at hearing you swear for the first time and out of sheer joy that you return his feelings. He brushes your hair back and holds his hand to cup your face. “Y/N, I don’t just like you. I love you too,” he says in a low voice just for you. He leans in to give you another lingering kiss. “And as for the when, I’d have to say it was probably that Christmas Eve you ran into me that I realized it.”

You drop your jaw. “No way. That’s when it hit me too. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to get here,” you say, blushing.

“But the important thing is, we’re here, together,” he says and you grin, looking back into his eyes. “Want to get out of here?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You nod. “Let me just grab my stuff,” you say, grabbing his hand. “Come with me?” you ask. It’s a loaded question, walking inside hand in hand would let everyone know how you feel about each other. You’re not sure if he wants to be so open with it yet, and you want to let him decide without pressure from you.

“Any time, baby,” he says easily, squeezing your hand and pulling you back toward the mall.

June 20, 1997

He waited two years for you; more than that if he’s counting the time since you first met, which of course you both do. He has something special planned for this weekend - well the “weekend” you share, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Two days, just the two of you in his apartment. He doesn’t plan on either of you leaving the bedroom the entire time.

The two of you have kept it mostly PDA free at the mall, but today you’re doing things to his willpower - wearing his leather jacket over a slim fitting purple cotton dress, your hair in his favorite braids. The combination of sweet and sexy is driving him wild every time he catches a glimpse of you in breaks between customers.

He loves it when you borrow his things, loves seeing little pieces of himself taking up space in your world. It’s only fair since you’ve already invaded his life and his heart completely. A polaroid of you now lives in his wallet. It’s from a late brunch you had together last week. Your hair in a messy bun, throwing up two peace signs, giving him a wide grin.

He keeps an ABBA CD in his car for when you’ve had a stressful day and need cheering up. He imagines Chanyeol endlessly laughing if he saw the candles Minseok bought for the dining table for last Tuesday night when you cooked dinner together. But he couldn’t care less. Besides, he’s already dreaming of making you his forever, officially.

On his lunch break yesterday, while you were tied up with a delivery issue, he snuck over to Simpson & Sons Jewelers and nonchalantly looked at rings. Just a quick glance between the necklaces and earrings, wondering to himself what style you might like. He’s waited more than two years, and it still amuses him that you’d felt the same way about each other almost the entire time. He’s in no rush, but now that you’re his, he’s playing for keeps.

He looks up from shelving a new shipment of LPs to see you standing up on your tip toes to grab a book for a customer. Your dress rides up dangerously and he groans softly to himself, feeling all his blood rush to his cock. He glances down at his watch - 12:01pm. Perfect, he thinks and carries the box of LPs back to the counter. Alec is training Sam on ordering, arguing back and forth about every step. They pause their bickering and look up as Minseok approaches.

“I’m heading out for lunch Alec, you guys all right here?” he asks, knowing Alec will be patiently waiting for his turn right at one o’clock.

“Right-o boss, we’re all set here,” he says and Sam gives him a dry look. Minseok chuckles to himself as he walks over to your store, happy that he found someone who’s more than a match for the unique challenge that is Alec.

Mel’s ringing up the customer you were helping and she gives him a wave when he walks in. He nods in return and scans the store for you. He finally spots you tidying up displays around the back. As he approaches you he grins, savoring the feeling that you’re finally his as much as he’s always been yours. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You yelp in surprise, whipping your head around to see who it is. Laughing when you realize it’s him, you spin in his arms and give him a discreet kiss, eyes shining with joy.

He pulls you back in for a longer kiss, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin at your lower back. “Mm, what’s gotten into you today?” you ask in a low voice.

“Hmm, you’re tormenting me with that dress today, and I think I have to do something about it,” he whispers in your ear. You raise your eyebrows in question and he pulls you through the store to the back hallway. The second you’re past the counter his hand slides down to cup your ass through the fabric of your dress. You giggle and glance behind you to make sure no one’s watching. The two of you slip into the office and he kicks the door shut behind him as soon as he’s through, locking it with one hand.

He leans back against the door and pulls you flush up against him, claiming your lips instantly. You slide your hands along his waist and up to his sculpted chest, relishing in the fact that you’re now able to touch his amazing body whenever you want. You lick his lower lip, sliding your tongue inside when he opens for you. 

His hands find your ass and he rocks his hips into yours, mimicking the back and forth movement of his tongue. You moan into his mouth; a high, breathy sound as you feel yourself rapidly getting wet in response to his touch.

His fingers drop to the hem of your dress, caressing their way up to slide under the edge of your panties. You pull back, meeting his eyes, dark with desire. “Here? Minseok, I-” you start to say. One of his hands bends down and begins stroking your aching clit, drawing a moan from your throat. Your eyes close and you grip his shoulders to stay upright. 

“I’m game if you are,” he says, and when you open your eyes he’s giving you a challenging look.

You think about objecting, but his hand dips lower and he sinks a finger inside of you. You lean closer and rest your forehead against his shoulder, breathing rapidly. “Oh, fuck it. Please, baby. I need you,” you whimper as he slips a second finger into you.

“I thought you’d never ask, honey,” he says roughly and slides your panties down your legs in a fluid motion. 

You walk backward to your desk, watching him hungrily through your lashes, kicking your panties off. You lean back on the desk, spreading your legs wide for him. He unbuckles his belt in a rush, then reaches into his back pocket for a condom, tearing the wrapper. He settles himself between your legs and you laugh. “Prepared, were you?”

“Around you? Always,” he says, pulling out his dick and rolling the condom on. His hands grip your hips, tilting you off the edge of the desk and easing the tip inside of you. You let out a loud moan and clap your hand to your mouth, wincing at how loud you were. He chuckles darkly and grins at you, delighting in how eagerly you respond to him. 

You wrap your legs around his waist and lean back onto an elbow, keeping one hand on your mouth to stifle any noise. He thrusts into you, sheathing himself in one motion, biting his lip to contain his groan of pleasure.

He pulls back and slams into you again, setting a rapid pace that has your eyes rolling back. You rock your hips into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. You bite down on your finger, already close to finding your release, amazed at how quickly he can affect your body. His eyes widen when he sees you bite down. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot. God, I’m already so close. The things you do to me, baby” he says between breaths, shaking his head in amusement.

One of his arms comes around your back to keep you upright as the other comes around to resume his attention to your clit. Your vision goes white as you reach your climax, a strangled moan leaving your mouth. He slams into you, drawing out your orgasm, before releasing himself inside of you. 

You reach up to hold onto his shoulders, resting your head against his chest as you both catch your breath. His head comes to rest on top of yours, holding you close. Once you’ve calmed down you lean back to look at him, giggling as you take in his messed up appearance, knowing that you must be in a similar state.

He grins down at you, tilting to kiss you gently on the lips. “I think we’re going to have to do this more often,” he says with a raise of his brow.

“Any time, baby. Any time,” you say happily.


End file.
